


Lynchpin

by cinnaluminum



Category: Shameless (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9845822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnaluminum/pseuds/cinnaluminum
Summary: “The more time I spent with this family, the more I sussed that the lynchpins were actually the females.” -Steve McBrideDebbie’s never believed honesty is any fairer than a really good lie. Sort of a coda to season 2. Spoilers, obviously.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to spend a little time in Debbie's head at the end of the second season. This is just a quick character study oneshot that I had a lot of fun writing.

A linchpin, or lynchpin, is a fastener used to prevent a wheel or other rotating part from sliding off the axle it is riding on.

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Debbie starts wearing gold hoop earrings after Fiona leaves. She has to be sharper now, shinier. With enough eyeliner, she thinks her eyes seem harder; under thick black lashes they give away nothing at all. She keeps the laundry going and takes charge of the groceries and picks Liam up from school. Looking in the mirror in the morning she sees only the mirror. Not Little Debbie, anymore, and she thinks that’s just as well. This might have been too much for her.

 It’s a relief that Lip and Ian don’t need too much taking care of, but she also can’t rely on them to take much care. Fiona’s always taken enough care for all of them. The boys are expecting someone to keep on taking care. Not just someone- some woman. They won’t say as much, but Debbie’s good at reading between the lines. Somehow, now, little sister is just sister, most of the time. 

She sits down at the table in the dark kitchen three nights after Fiona leaves. As she leafs through the book of appointments she’s relieved to find it mostly blank for the next few weeks, a chance to get everything under control. Then suddenly she’s not relieved anymore. There’s nothing written down here. No map.

She turns the pages back. Her own name keeps turning up, and all her brothers, but Fiona’s isn’t there. Like she kept track of everyone else in the book, and her own life stayed in her head. The careful, slanting handwriting gives away nothing at all. 

It’s like Debbie’s spent her life relying on what goes on in her peripheral vision to get her by, and now she has to look at it directly it’s more difficult than she expected. She’s having a hard time reading the words and numbers here, and an even harder time looking at those blank pages that she’s suddenly responsible for filling. 

Liam comes running to her when Monica asks him where he wants to live, and she’s never felt heavier with relief than she does in that moment. He crashes into her knees with all the weight of love and need and she’d never give him up, never. This isn’t a game, though. Not exactly a doll with a fever, our Liam. 

Debbie’s always gotten by on figuring out the things no one wants to tell her. She knows more about her brothers than they know about her. Fiona was good at that, too. Or at least, she was good at keeping her own secrets. Not the cheap ones- those were always easy enough to suss out. Debbie remembers watching from the upstairs window as Steve walked out the front door, that first night. But the really big secret, the surprising fact of her independence… Fiona kept that hidden well enough, until it came right down to it. Debbie remembers Carl’s face, white with shock, the night Fiona left them for Steve. 

That kind of deception- the appearance of transparency that disguises the opaque, the implication that avoids the lie- that’s something Debbie can respect. She can’t be too angry at Fiona, in the end. Debbie’s never believed honesty is any fairer than a really good lie. She’s not Fiona, but she thinks she’d better come up with a damn good imitation. It’s not that she’s dishonest, exactly, but she’s very good at being believed. She has a good imagination and a clever tongue. She thinks, I’d better come up with something.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the first thing I've written in approximately forever. Kudos and comments are cherished for eternity :-)


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